Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

“More.” She groans and runs her nails along my skin.

Goosebumps race from my scalp to the floor, igniting my need to feel her. I slip my fingers beneath her panties. Fucking hell. I bite my lip, but it does nothing to muffle the growl that rumbles in my throat. She’s ready.

I want to sink myself so deep inside her that nothing can ever come between us again. Lose myself within her so all our mistakes disappear and all that remains is us. “Are you sure?”

She pulls back. Her face is flushed, lips parted, and she looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes. “For the first time in my life, I’m sure. I love you, Blake.”

Her words rocket through me with a burst of adrenaline. “I love you, Mouse.” I bury myself inside her in one thrust.

“Yes.” She cries out against my lips and her nails bite into my shoulders.

Holding her by her ass, I wait for her to adjust. She squirms in my hands.

“Easy, baby. I’ve been waiting too long for this. I want to take my time.”

She whimpers and rolls her hips. “It’s only been five days.”

“Feels like a lifetime.” I pull out slowly and push back with the same pace. My lips trace her collarbone.

“Please, Blake.”

“Shh.” I dig my fingers into the supple flesh of her ass. “Hold on tight.”

Her arms constrict around my shoulders. It’s then that I realize that being wrapped up in my woman is the only place I want to be. Music, fighting… nothing comes close.

Leveraging her back against the wall, she meets my every thrust. Unafraid and confident. And absolutely fucking perfect.

My hand skates up the gentle curve of her hip to her breasts. I roll her nipple between my finger and thumb.

“Blake, yes…”

I had no idea this is what making love would be like. It doesn’t have to be slow and sensual, on a bed or surrounded by candlelight. Making love isn’t about the where or how, it’s about feelings. Even in a dirty room backstage at a club, up against a wall, this is making love.

The pressure of my release coils low and at the ready. What started as soft moans drifting from her lips has now turned to staccato breath. I shift my position to a better angle. Her hand releases me and flies to the wall above her head.

My hips pin hers in place while her back bows. I watch with fascination as our bodies move together in rhythm. Her breasts are pink from my mouth and dance before my eyes with every wave of my hips. My head swims at the overload of stimulation. The visual of her combines with the way her body grips mine in a relentless hold. Visions of our future together, making love every night and falling asleep wrapped up in her naked body. My stomach constricts, shooting bolts of euphoria to my dick. On pure instinct, I pull her bottom lip with my teeth and bite. And with that, we both ignite.

Warmth explodes in my gut, shooting down my limbs. I groan with her lip in my mouth and feel her cry of release in my throat. Her legs convulse around my waist, constricting tight before her body goes limp. I suckle at her lips, hoping I didn’t hurt her with my teeth.

“Fuck, Mouse. I felt that shit in my chest.”

Our bodies throb at our connection, recovering slowly from our simultaneous orgasm.

I’m panting, breathing in deep the scent of her hair and sweat-dampened skin. “Holy shit. We’re so damn good together.”

She laughs, but it’s half-hearted as she fights to catch her breath.

“Shit, I’d put you down, but I can’t move.”

Her limbs tighten around me. “No, don’t put me down. I like where I am.”

I nod and lean into her, sandwiching her between the wall and me. The weight seems to help, and she relaxes against me.

“Let me take you home,” I whisper against her shoulder.

“Whose home?”

I lean back to meet her eyes. “Our home.”

Her eyes grow wide, and she raises her brows. She rests her palms against my chest. “Blake, I—”

“Living together, that’s it. I know it’s fast, and you’re in the process of getting a divorce, but—”

She unhooks her legs from my waist. I pull out and instantly miss the heat of her body. Holding her close, I give her time to find her legs before I settle her back to standing.

“I don’t know what to say, I mean, are you sure you’re ready for that?”

I shrug, and smile. “I’ve never been more ready. Living the last five days without you and Axelle. I can’t imagine going another day. Please, don’t deny me my girls.”

She blinks. “You said that night that you wanted Axelle, that you claim her. Did you mean—”

“Every word. I know I’m not Axelle’s biological father, but is it possible that, on some level, I was meant to be?”

Her gaze shifts from me to the floor.

I don’t blame her for not believing me. “Look, I know my promises don’t mean shit anymore, but I’ll earn your—”

J.B. Salsbury's books